


Clear The Air

by Occasionalcoffeethereturn



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:12:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8133304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Occasionalcoffeethereturn/pseuds/Occasionalcoffeethereturn
Summary: A meeting in a bar in late 1997.





	

'Fuck him,' she thought. 'Really and truly, fuck him.' 

He'd asked her earlier that day to meet him for a drink. She'd shrugged and agreed and dutifully turned up anyway, part of her appreciating his effort, however pathetic his attempt at holding out an olive branch to her was. And now he was late. He'd got married without telling her a mere six weeks after leaving her bed. And now it was him who had suggested meeting her so they could 'clear the air.' She hated that expression. The air would never be clear between them. They were destined to live surrounded by a constant fog, to bump into each other, clash with each other and not see one another for want of looking.

Tattered, bitten finger nails drummed on the edge of the mahogany table impatiently, the condensation from her glass collecting on the table in small puddles. What kind of person turns up late to something that was their suggestion in the first place? Only him of course.

She crossed and uncrossed her legs again, yanking down her pencil skirt, willing it to stay over his knees. She leaned back in the booth and sighed deeply, willing herself to relax, to enjoy the moments she has to herself but it's impossible. She's cursing him for being late and she's cursing herself for being sat there still waiting for him after half an hour.

He's probably running late because he's at home fucking his wife. She bets he's giving it to her from behind, his back muscles rippling as he digs his fingers into her bony hips and pulls her backwards against his rigid cock as he thrusts. 

She bets some more that his new wife is really loud in bed and not in a good way. The sort of woman you hear in a hotel even though you're 7 rooms away from her. She's probably a grunter as well as a moaner. 

She lets her mind wonder to whether his wife lets him fuck her in the ass? Maybe one day she'll tell her how good he is at anal sex. Not only that, maybe she'll tell her how much he enjoys a well placed finger massaging his prostate.

She's down to about a third of a glass of her drink, the one she had to buy because he wasn't even there to pay for it when she sees him out of the corner of her eye. She watches as he makes his way to the bar, flirts with the barmaid and his dull monotone rumbles out an order. She concentrates on looking towards the floor, the way the tiles glitter in a certain light and bounces her foot up and down inside her heels.

She finally looks up when he clears his throat and sees he's carrying two drinks, one which he wordlessly sets in front of her. Damn him for remembering what she likes to drink and damn him to hell for buying it for her without asking.

'Thank you,' she sighs. Her words are strained with effort and she can barely look him in the eye.

'Sorry I'm late, I was...'

She cuts him off with a raised hand and trembling fingers. Really? Does he really think she wants to know or that she needs the detail?

'Don't. I really don't want to know.'

He shakes his head as he huffs out a laugh, twirling ice cubes around in amber liquid as he spins the glass in his hand. The glass is suspiciously full and she suspects there are at least three shots in there.

'Was this a bad idea?'

'You tell me, you suggested it.'

'I'm trying to...-'

'You're trying. That's a fucking joke David it's...-'

She stops as she realises they're both raising their voices and she remembers just how small this city is and how many establishments have walls with ears.

'I came to say I was sorry.'

Her blue eyes pierce his as she finishes her first drink, blindly reaching for the glass containing her second. She didn't know what she expected but an apology wasn't near the top of her list. What is it she actually wanted? An apology, some regret and remorse from him? For him to tell her he made a mistake? An apology for what, for getting married, for not telling her, did not inviting her? For all of the above? She takes a few deep breaths, wondering what exactly it was she expected from him tonight.

'You've nothing to be sorry for.'

'Really? You believe that as much as I do.' 

His arm stretches out along the back of the booth and somehow their thighs have found themselves pressed together. He's leaning in as he's talking to her and the scent and proximity of him begins to make her wet. She leans back, trying to get away from him but only succeeds in as far as making more contact with his arm. Fingertips brush gently at her shoulder and she inhales sharply.

There will only be one way this night is ending and she knows that now.

'I'm sorry I didn't tell you. About the wedding.'

'It really is none of my business what you do with your life.'

'It could have been.'

She watches as he gulps down a large swig of whisky, willing him with her eyes not to do this. Not to go there, not now. She's done crying her tears, she's done with throwing things across the room, she's done smoking and drinking her thoughts away in the early hours of the morning.

'No David...-'

'Why? Why did you end it? With us I mean.'

'Just don't.'

She starts to try and get up but he presses a firm arm across both of her legs, pinning her to the seat. His body curls around hers now, his face level with hers and his other arm encircling her shoulders. He has her trapped with nowhere to go. She closes her eyes because it's the only thing she can do to shut him out, the only way she can pretend he's not there and pretend this isn't happening.

She feels him lean closer to her, his nose nearing her cheek and his forehead coming to rest against hers.

'Gillian.'

He breathes her name against her and she allows her mouth to open, her tongue so close to him she can almost taste him. 

'It was too much. I wasn't ready.'

He moves his face so his cheek rests against hers, his mouth at her ear. His lips are so close to her ear she can imagine the touch of his kiss and she struggles not to reach out and touch him. It would be so easy to do that, so instead she digs her fingers into the cool leather seat, her nails like talons.

'You left me. You ran from me again and again and you shut me out. You wouldn't let me in. Repeatedly. What the fuck was I supposed to do?'

His voice hissed in her ear as his breathing quickened and his arm pressed her more firmly into the seat. He was angry. In fact he was seething, the hurt emanating from him in waves.

'I'm.... I'm sorry.'

'I wanted you.'

She felt his rough palms prize her hands away from the seat and she gasped as he wrenched her arm towards his lap, her hand reflexively closing over his cock. She could feel him, hard against her and couldn't help but stroke him through his jeans. 

'I still want you,' he whispered as he shielded her from prying eyes, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin behind her ear and making their way down her neck. 'I'll always want you.'

She let out a breathy moan and gripped him in her hand firmly, shifting the denim against him as she eased her hand up and down. His teeth sunk into the patch of sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder and she moaned aloud as his tongue rubbed over where he had marked her, soothing the pain. 

She finally gave in, tilting her face towards him, her lips brushing against the stubble on his cheek as she whispered to him. 'You can't.'

'I can't what?'

'You can't want me. You're married.'

His head sunk down to her shoulder, his forehead rubbing against her as his nose nuzzled her collar bone. He was walking on the fine line between arousal and anger. How could she just not understand this? In the end he went in the middle with pure exasperation towards her.

'Why'd you run Gillian?'

She didn't want to deal with this, not with her head in such a fog, with the desire snaking over her. She moved her hand away from him and tried to back away but he still had her cornered in the booth. She tried to slide sideways away from him but he pulled back and placed both his hands firmly on top of her legs, squeezing her muscles and allowing his thumbs to rub circles on her inner thighs through the thin material of her skirt. 

He met her eyes, seeing a mix of hurt and fear and shook his head at her. 'Christ Gillian. It's just me.'

'I can't do this. David please.'

The pleading in her voice caused him to relax his grip on her and she took advantage of the slight freedom, wiggling out from underneath him and escaping from the booth, her hip making solid contact against the table as she fled. She knows she'll have a bruise there tomorrow but senses it will be nothing like the bruise she's forcing upon both of their hearts.

She holds her breath as she walks quickly all the way to the ladies room, then breathes deeply as she pushes against the door, relieved to find no company. She took several deep breaths, fighting back tears but drops from each eye spill over her lids before falling to the floor.

The door crashes open behind her and she doesn't even have to turn around to know that he's followed her in there. She pushes open a stall door just in time and he bundles in behind her, locking the door and trapping her once again.

He's angry with her, but mostly he looks hurt. He runs a hand over his face, his forehead hot and shiny and he struggles to keep the cadence of his voice even.

'I wanted you,' he mumbled to her again. 'I was falling for you.'

Her breath hitches and she can't help but let a small sob escape from her. She should have known that he wasn't going to let her get away without explaining herself to him. She doesn't need to hear this, the 'what could have been' that can't be now. She should have never come tonight.

'You don't mean that!'

'Don't you fucking tell me what I do and don't mean!'

His yell echoes through the bathroom as he hears the main door clatter open, and grabs her wrist pinning it to the wall of the stall as he dips his face lower to be level with hers.

'You married someone else.'

'You left me no fucking choice!'

'You could have waited!'

His grip increases against her, the perspiration collecting on his upper lip, his eyes bright and dancing all around her face.

'You.' He points at her with a solid finger, raising his other hand up between them. 'You ran. You didn't want me to wait!'

'But you found her! Don't tell me you don't love her.'

His silence and pause feel almost deafening to her and he struggles to meet her eyes.

'I don't know.'

'You don't know. Why the fuck are we even talking about this David? What's the point?'

'You really wanna carry on the way we are?'

She doesn't answer, simply lets her tongue slip between her lips pulling her lower lip between her teeth. She can feel the steady breaths coming from his nostrils as he looms over her. The way they are is unbearable. It's verging on toxic. She can't be near him because he's exactly who she wants but she can't have. She can't forgive herself for letting him go, she can't forgive him for looking elsewhere for what she was desperate to give to him but just couldn't. 

She shakes her head at him. 'I just don't know how to be around you anymore.'

His face is close, too close, and his lips meet hers before she can stop it. She's surprised and aroused and her reaction comes out as a moan as she opens her mouth to him, his tongue teasing and playing with hers.

Her arms loop around his neck, her fingers grasping at fistfuls of his hair as his hand snakes down under the thin material of her shirt. He palms her breast roughly, his other hand popping buttons as he pinches and massages her. Her nipples harden and he pulls her breast from its lacy confines, his head dropping to take her breast into his mouth. He suckles on her, his teeth grazing her pebbled flesh and his hand grasps at the juncture of her thighs through her skirt. 

He is pawing at her desperately in a bathroom stall and there's not one pore of her body that doesn't ache to feel him inside her. 

He stops suddenly, stumbling half a step backwards from her before he hits the wall of the stall. He undoes his belt buckle, the metal clanking loudly off the bare walls and releases himself from his boxer briefs. He takes his dick in his hand and pumps himself gently, once then twice from root to tip. He's hard for her, has been hard for her since he first walked into the bar and she reaches for him to replace his hand with hers. He gasps when her small, cool and soft fingers touch him. She grips him just perfectly, firm but not too hard and swirls her thumb around the precum from his tip, moistening his shaft as she works her hand up and down.

He gasps and she stops, meeting his gaze as she gathers the material of her skirt to bunch up around her waist. He hooks one finger into the elastic of her panties and they slide down her legs. She steps one foot out allowing her legs to spread wider and he groans as he sees her panties hanging around one ankle.

'Are you ready?' he whispers to her and she realises he sounds as desperate as she feels.

She edges closer to him and guides his hand to her soaked curls. His fingers push between her lower lips, calloused skin stroking against the side of her clit, giving her the indirect pressure he knows she loves.

'I love how wet you get for me.'

'Yeah.'

He eases his hand against her, stroking her to build her closer to the edge. It becomes too much for her and she turns away from him and bends over. Her body stretches almost in half, her ass in the air just for him. He can see the moisture glistening at her entrance. He doesn't think he's seen anything hotter or more inviting in his entire life. She braces one hand holding the lock of the door in place and another grips onto a hook. 

Girls outside their bathroom stall giggle and chat with one other but all she can think about is the anticipation of feeling him inside her again after so many months. She can feel him behind her, knows he's thinking the same thing. Knows he loves the build up as much as the actual act and she shudders with want despite herself.

He pushes inside her and it's every bit as good as she remembers. She squeezes her walls against him, welcoming him, and he's never forgotten how good she feels, just how hot and tight and sweet she is. A strong arm holds her in place across her waist as his palm finds her bare breast again, his finger pinching and flicking her nipple. His other arm wraps around her, his fingers pausing as they rest in the hair at the juncture of her thighs, teasing her. She knows he'll touch her when she's about to come to send her over the edge and loves that he remembers how to do this to her and for her.

His fingers twist and pinch at her nipple as he begins to move, holding her steady as he sets his pace. He's slow at first, pulling out and pushing in to savour the feeling of her, but she knows he can't keep up this speed for long. She can't stand it for long either.

'Harder David, please.'

Her voice is breathy and wanton and doesn't sound like her own, but her arousal has taken over her brain and synapses and she needs to be fucked so hard that she can no longer think straight.

He obliges. His thrusts harsher, deeper and more powerful as she moves her hips back against him in time with his thrusts inside her.

'You like it like that?'

'Yeah. Just like that yeah.'

The sounds of their skin against skin, their grunts and whispers are all that they can hear and focus on. This feels too good, and she moves her hands lower on the door, bending further to change the angle of his penetration. 

The new angle sends him deeper inside her and he picks up the pace, the door rattling rhythmically in its frame as his index finger makes firm strokes over her clit, occasionally breaking away to tease her.

'Are you...?'

He drifts off, his ability to speak temporarily suspended as all he can think of is reaching his release and spilling himself inside her. He grasps her tighter, holding her to him and drilling into her with all that he has to give.

'Yeah. Oh fuck I'm gonna come David.'

He presses his finger against her and she emits a strangled moan, her walls convulsing against him as her moisture coats him. He stills for a second, letting her ride out her pleasure and waits for her breathing to return to normal.

'Did you?'

'Not yet, no. Just let me know when I can...'

'Yeah. Yeah I'm ready.'

The aftershocks of her orgasm are still tingling through her nerve endings and she feels like she's on fire. He holds his hands on her hips, his nails digging into her the way he knows she likes and he pounds into her, his pace one she could never match or keep up with. The angles she's created mean his dick hits her cervix in exactly the right way. He's breathless behind her, pouring all his concentration into fucking her. It's only a few strokes before he finishes and she feels herself convulsing again, a small put powerful orgasm sweeping over her, milking him as he spills inside her. 

She leans her head on her hands against the door as he pulls out of her, and she hears him tearing off sheets of tissue before zipping up his pants. She daren't look at herself. One breast hanging out of her bra, shirt unbuttoned, skirt bunched up around her waist and panties precariously dangling from one ankle. This shouldn't have happened. They shouldn't have let themselves get carried away like this. That had been a recurring theme over the past few years.

She eases her breast, still red from his teeth marks and wet with his saliva, back inside her bra and begins to fasten the buttons of her blouse. She bends to retrieve her panties, shuffling them up her legs and lets her skirt slide down her body.

'Self preservation,' he mumbles behind her.

'What do you mean?'

'I needed to feel loved. You couldn't give me what I needed. You still can't.'

He pushed past her and placed his hand on the door, trying to work out if anyone was left in the main bathrooms. He listened intently before easing open the lock, pausing before he opened the door to let himself out.

'David...' 

She hears him exhale heavily and he turns to face her, the door slightly ajar.

'I want you,' her hand is on his sleeve and he watches as her slender fingers curve around his arm.

'That isn't enough. But I'll take it for now.'

He nods at her curtly and squeezes her inside the cubicle as he leaves. She feels the products of their lovemaking begin to trickle down her leg and holds back a sob as a tear escapes and slides down her face.

The air between them has never been less clear.


End file.
